All the Rage
by crypticnotions
Summary: A new number may be the key to discovering the cure for an infection that has the potential of killing and reanimating humanity. Can the fantastic four untangle the truth before it's too late? Joss/John pairing explored in chapter three.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.

A/N: There will be violence and gore and possibly mentions of hasty sex in this fic. If this is not your thing, please don't read. I may up the rating on this fic later.

A recent article about the potential negative impact of swine flu shots in Europe inspired this story. I am not anti-vaccine though so please, go read up on all your vaccines and get your shots!

I'm also not a scientist or doctor. I need your suspension of belief big time here.

Also, this is my first PoI fiction. I can't guarantee quick updates at this point, but will try.

* * *

2013

"Mr. Reese, we have a problem here," Finch said. He leaned on his good side and lifted his gun eye level with a young woman's forehead. Her head rocked backwards as the bullet ripped through. Blood and brain matter cascaded through the air. Finch immediately took aim at a gentleman who ambled his way. Finch watched as the man fell from his shot in an almost balletic way, one arm swinging gracefully in a high arch as he tumbled.

If people could see him now, no one would have believed that Harold hated guns. But Finch also had a great capacity for adapting to new situations and this was definitely a new situation.

Finch turned back to a different woman dragging and groaning her way to his location. It was clear she had been infected a while ago. One of her legs was almost completely rotted off, but that only slowed her down a little. He aimed and fired. He was almost out of ammunition.

He pushed the button on his radio. "Mr. Reese? John?" There was nothing but silence.

* * *

Winter 2011

"I think we have a good batch, Daniel."

Daniel Bateman looked over at his partner. "Better than last year's?"

"Yes, we didn't guess the right strains last year so we were left with a bunch of duds."

"Did you get Smitty on it?"

"Yes, he should be hitting CNN and The View today and there's a booking for him on Dr. Oz tomorrow."

"Good, I can deliver our shareholders the news."

"Yes, but…"

"But what?" Daniel didn't exactly like Ralph Entin because Entin had always came off a little squirrelly to him. The man could never hold eye contact for long and was nervous and fidgety, and Daniel distrusted people like that. However, Ralph delivered the goods, except for last year, better than anyone in the business.

"I'm concerned we rushed this. I don't feel comfortable with the adjuvant. It hasn't been tested enough. We're only getting it through here because of a loop-hole in the F.D.A."

Daniel eyed Ralph with thinly veiled disgust. "Of course we rushed it. They're talking pandemic levels of flu. Everyone wants our shots."

"There could be consequences, Dan." Ralph squirmed under Daniel's scrutiny.

"Yes, and most of them are to us if we don't deliver when we have a product ready to go."

Daniel turned away from the man. He had no time for Entin's antics. He had good news to share.

* * *

Autumn 2012

"Do we have a new number, Finch?" John tossed a chewed up tennis ball to Bear and watched as the dog bit and slobbered over the toy.

Harold looked up from his newly steeped tea in displeasure. He had grown to love the dog, but he still disliked his library being Reese and Bear's primary place of play. He preferred when they found other outlets for their energy.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Reese, we do. It seems like Lucy Bateman's life is in danger."

"Lucy Bateman? Any connection to that murdered CEO from the Carlton Frisk drug company?"

Harold raised an eyebrow at that. "So you do read the newspaper I leave out?"

John shrugged. "A man gets bored sometimes. What do you know about Lucy?"

Finch looked over the facts that were produced in his computer search. "She's supposed to be Daniel's daughter." He paused. "Hmm."

"I don't like the sound of that, Finch."

Harold had a way with words and when he was speechless John knew his job was going to be difficult.

"There is not nearly enough information about Lucy. I understand that she is a high profile child, and therefore many of her records should be sealed or difficult to locate, but there should be something more on a twenty-four year old. No credit cards, no apartment, not even one registered in Daniel's name for her. No school records or cell phone numbers. Nothing. It's almost like Lucy doesn't exist."

"Or maybe she's an alias," John supplied. The two men looked at each other. They both knew a thing or two about name changes.

"That seems to be a likely possibility."

"I'll call Carter and see if she can get Daniel's autopsy report. Something isn't right here."

* * *

Carter moved into the shadows of the precinct. She had to be even more vigilant these days. Donnelly was back and was desperate to bag the Man in the Suit. She flipped open her burner phone.

"What's up, John?"

"I need you to look up an autopsy report for me."

"Aren't your victims usually alive?"

"Usually. We're not sure about this one. Name is Daniel Bateman."

"_The_ Daniel Bateman?"

John chuckled. "So you read the paper when you're bored too?"

She looked at the phone confused, but from the tone of his voice she could tell that Finch was probably around and those two shared inside jokes all the time.

"No, his death was all over the precinct a month back. It was pretty shocking that a man who was set to enter the billionaire's club would hang himself after a minor dispute with a colleague."

"Foul play?" John's voice held concern.

"No, they ruled it a suicide, but it was shady. We received an order from the mayor to make it an open-and-shut case as quickly as possible. Thought that was strange too."

"You don't think it was just because he was rich?"

"No, the eccentricities of the rich don't usually get the mayor involved. Otherwise, we'd be getting calls every time a rich, old bachelor was killed."

"Might if some of the mayor's reelection money comes from Carlton Frisk."

"Might," she agreed. "Let me see what I can find out. I'll meet you at the diner."

"No, I'll meet you at your house."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said. She didn't particularly dislike Reese in her space. In fact, she liked him there. A lot.

"The diner is not a good spot since Donnelly is sniffing around."

"How did you know about," she started. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to know. I'll see you later."

"Later, Detective," he said.

She should be irritated. He'd invited himself to her house and used that husky, whispery voice on her, but instead she tried to ignore the heat that rose to her cheeks.

* * *

December 31, 2012

"What the hell, Carter?" Fusco yelled as he snapped his leg back into the car. His partner nearly slammed the car door shut on him.

She opened the passenger's door and threw herself inside.

"I don't have time to explain. Drive," she barked. She kept looking behind the car.

"What? What's going on?"

A bloody hand smacked against the back windshield and startled Lionel. "Wha…?" The hand started to beat furiously at the window. A web of cracks starburst at the force.

"Drive," Carter said. It was the calmest he had ever seen her and it spurred him into action in a way that her yelling at him never could. He started the engine.

"I'm going to hit whomever the hell that is if I back up," he said.

"It doesn't matter. I don't think they're alive anymore," she replied.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Took me long enough to update, huh? Kind of have a handle on where this is going so there's that.

* * *

Autumn 2012

"Something isn't right." Carter leaned back on her couch and picked up her cup of coffee. In her lap was the autopsy report she'd copied from the station. "Bateman's death was deemed asphyxia by hanging, but they also found dissociatives in his system."

"Supposedly he went in for surgery the day before." Reese sat facing her. "That's not out of the ordinary."

"No, but I remember having to reach out to the doctor. He was out of town at the time. He was confident it was an outpatient thing, but it doesn't quite match up with the level of drugs present."

"So you think Bateman was drugged, Carter?"

She frowned. "I don't know. His partner, Entin, is the one who found him and called us."

"He suspicious?" Reese inquired.

Joss shook her head. "A bit nervous, a little squirrelly, but nothing out of the ordinary for the geeky types."

A smile flashed on John's face. "I'm sure Harold would love hearing this."

"You mean he isn't hearing it now? You guys are joined at the hip." Carter sat the file next to the coffee mug she'd placed on the table in front of her. She picked up a delicate plate with an intricate design etched on its corners and took a bite of her warm pepperoni pizza.

"Not always." He eyed her as the sauce of her pizza dripped into the corner of her mouth.

"Amazing. I never saw the day your shadow would let you off the technological leash."

"I'm not a dog, Carter," Reese growled. He picked up his own plate and began to munch on the food.

"No," she said in a voice that lingered between a statement and an amused question.

"No," he replied firmly.

She smiled at him then. He was even more adorable when he got upset.

"So, where's Taylor?"

"He won a scholarship to a basketball camp. He thinks he's a big shot now."

"That's great."

"It is. I'm proud of him." She finished her slice of pizza, swiped her mouth with a paper towel and picked up the file again.

She couldn't help but feel his sigh vibrating across the pillows stacked between them.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"No, spill. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," he repeated. His mouth formed a thin, firm line.

She looked at him for a long time before refocusing on the case.

* * *

Spring 2012

"Something isn't right, Daniel."

Daniel looked up to see Ralph nervously bumbling his way into Daniel's office. Ralph was leaving smudge prints across the glass surface of Daniel's work desk.

"What is it now, Entin?" Daniel asked.

For the last four months, Ralph had been an extra ball of energy, his body constantly charged on worrying. He fussed over chemicals and every little unhappy report that cleared their desk. The man had been working with the company too long to be this stressed over every minor detail.

"Someone died." Entin dropped a stack of papers on Daniel's desk. They fell and slid on top of the papers Daniel was reading.

"Do we have to go through this every year, Ralph? There is always a risk that someone will be allergic or have some other kind of reaction to one of the drugs in our vaccines. We'll pay off the family and keep on moving."

Entin shook his head. "Not this time. The person we killed is the daughter of a Congressman."

"Let's get one thing straight: we did not kill anyone. You will not tell anyone that we killed this person, okay?" Daniel could feel his anger blooming deep inside. "This is nothing that a call to our lawyer can't fix." His hands gripped the arms of the all white, high-backed chair he rested against.

"She's not the only one." Entin waved to the papers still cascading over Daniel's desk.

"Of course she isn't. She's just the most high profile. Did you forget that we were sued over one hundred and fifty times last year during flu season alone? I'll get Alton on it and we'll move on."

Ralph shook his head. "Don't you care?"

Daniel sighed. "Yes, despite my demeanor being compared to a robot, I care, Ralph. I also care that our stock is through the roof. I care that we went two whole months without a suit. I care that our biggest shareholder was so impressed with our results that he's investing more so that you can have your little frets over the research."

Ralph swallowed, balled his fist and closed his eyes. "This is wrong, Daniel. We're going to back ourselves into a corner we can't fix one day."

* * *

2013

Finch was backed into a corner. He was almost out of bullets and a horde of infected were ambling his way. Guns were a catch-22. They helped eliminate the problem of the infected temporarily, but always seemed to alert nearby shufflers to join in the fray.

"Mr. Reese," he tried again. He almost groaned.

Harold had been near death before. He'd already had his feet swept dangerously off the cliff between life and whatever was out there. At least this time his life took on flashes of things other than just Nathan and Grace. This time he could say he'd been involved in saving people's lives. Even now, it was his radio alert out that had quarantined the disease to small pockets of the country and various places in the world.

This time he saw his makeshift family in those flashes too. John, a man he could say he was privileged to call his friend, Detectives Carter and Fusco, and Leon Tao. Bear held a place in his heart too. Even Samantha Groves was making a brief interlude in his thoughts.

Three infected drifted his way. He lifted his gun and eliminated two of them. Another two appeared to replace them. _Oh dear god_, he thought. Being eaten by people infected with the desire to consume human brain matter and flesh was not his idea of a good death.

He planted his feet and decided he would fight with all of his strength.

Before he could offer up his last mental thoughts, a car came whizzing by, the occupant screaming out the window. Shots fired and Finch flinched as the previously dead infected died again.

"Woo hoo!"

The car raced toward him and a back door was shoved open. "Get in, old dude!"

Taylor Carter sat in the driver's side of the dented car.

Finch didn't hesitate to enter the vehicle. "Mr. Carter, why are you driving? Did you get your license?"

Taylor scrunched up his nose and eyed Finch in the rearview mirror. "I just saved your life in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and you're worried about my license?"

"Driving without a license is illegal."

"No offense, Harold, but you seriously have a stick up your ass."

"So I've been told," Harold murmured. "Where are Detective Fusco, your mother and Mr. Reese?"

Taylor sobered then. His voice dropped as he turned the wheel and the corner, avoiding another herd of infected. "Mom got bitten."


	3. Chapter 3

Junk science abounds ahead and for that I am sorry.

* * *

2013

Seven. Two. Seven-two. Seventy-two. 72. That's how many hours she had left. That's when the virus racing through her veins would overwhelm her immune system and take hold of her body.

On one hand this was a terrible death. It would take three days for the hallucinations and fever and vomiting to come. Until then she would have to live in dread of the end when John or Fusco (she'd made them promise it wouldn't have to be Taylor) would put a bullet through her brain to keep her from reanimating. She would be able to say goodbye.

On the other hand, this slow death was the reason that Finch had been able to alert so many continents and states. With the three-day incubation period of flu-like symptoms as warning, many of those who had been infected had been tested, quarantined and eliminated before the threat could grow. While states early to adopt the flu vaccine had been the most susceptible to the masses of infected and their deadly bite, this wasn't likely to end as one of Taylor's zombie video games, with the entirety of humanity clawing at survival.

That was of course dependent on Finch's worst-case scenario not playing out. He'd thrown out that the virus could mutate causing shorter incubation times or morph into being airborne and cross species. So far the only ways to get infected were from the saliva of the already dead and reanimated infected or injected exposure to the combination included in the flu shot.

The bite on her upper thigh throbbed, slicing through her thoughts. She frowned. She would have rather taken the vaccine than bear this pain. She violently pushed that thought aside. John would be dead if she hadn't taken that bite and as much as she trusted her skills, she knew that Taylor had a much better chance of getting to a designated safe zone if John was with him.

"You okay, Carter?" Lionel asked.

She could see the worry sagging his facial muscles.

She smirked. "Peachy. Glad we scored that sack of apples and canned corned beef. I can only live off stale Mickey D's for so long."

There was no need to wax poetic about how tragic her end would be. Lionel had witnessed his ex-wife undergo transformation, had held her hand when she screamed because of the visions, had held her hair when the meager food came up as green and yellow liquids, had promised her their son would live when her vibrant eyes lost their life and glossed over in fear. He'd been the one to end her, grateful that his son was still stuck at an aunt's house in California because of a multiple day school suspension.

The radio she held in her hand crackled to life.

"Detective Carter? Jocelyn?"

"Taylor get to you?" she asked, her voice trying to mask her concern. She wasn't sure why she asked. Finch had to be using Taylor's radio since John dropped his during an ambush while they were on a supply run.

"Yes, Mr. Carter was able to locate me with ease. I take it you are preoccupied?"

"We were." She didn't know how much Taylor had told Finch, but it wouldn't do any good to make a big deal out of the situation. They'd already lost several to the masses. The most devastating had been Shaw, who insisted on giving them an edge when they were backed into the library.

Yet somehow she felt a sadness descend on her. She and Harold hadn't hit it off at the beginning. They'd circled each other warily before accepting an uneasy alliance and then a tentative friendship. She would miss him.

The voice buzzed back. "I heard there is a predicament."

"There isn't," she replied calmly. "Did you find what you needed?"

The radio frequency squealed as they passed under a tunnel. She noticed John's eyes gazing into hers from the mirror.

"I did," Harold replied.

She let the air in her body expel in one long exhale. She wouldn't live to see it, but there might be hope for others.

* * *

Spring 2012

"Complications from a skiing accident."

Ralph let the folded paper flop onto his desk. Daniel was right. Representative Longhart, who had seemed livid over the phone only twenty-four hours ago, had caved at the mere mention of a re-election donation disguised as a bundled gift gathered at a fundraiser. Alton James had worked his magic.

Ralph picked the paper up again and looked into the smiling face of Catarina Longhart. He owed her. He picked up a manila folder and flipped through the glossy pages of other people who had recently died. He owed them all.

A beep sounded from the phone perched on the corner of his desk. He knew who it would be.

"Did you get it?"

"Yes," the voice answered. He could hear a grunt then the person breathing hard.

"I'll be down in a moment."

Ralph packed up the folders and stuffed them into his worn leather briefcase. The satchel that was nearly empty a month ago bulged with his new files. He jammed the bag under his arm and grabbed the pass card with a photograph of his grim face printed on it, slipped it over his head and left his office.

The lights were dim and all the receptionist stations were empty. Even the maintenance workers were long gone, leaving behind a distinct clash of Windex and Clorox. This was his life now. He was destined to work in the dark of night. The carpeted elevator car pinged as it whizzed down to the basement. He exited and slid the card into a security slot. Three lights beeped stoplight red before they changed to a neon green.

The doors opened. He stepped inside the room and walked to a platform overlooking a lower level. The room stretched half a football field and had a permanent stench of mold and decay etched into its air.

A long groan focused his attention to the left of the room. Locked in a cage only five feet away from an unhappy attendant stood a young woman with long blonde hair. Milky eyes replaced the green ones in the picture. He sighed.

"Hello, Catarina."

* * *

2013

"I'm sorry."

They were staring at the bite together. It really was a mouth shaped chunk of flesh gone from her upper left thigh. Blood soaked through the fabric she'd hastily wrapped around it.

She touched his hand then. "John, it's okay."

"It's not. It's not."

His eyes were watering and she gripped his hand then.

"Make sure that Taylor gets out, okay?"

"Joss," he started.

"No," she shook her head. "I have about seventy hours. I don't want to spend that time worried about regrets. Make sure my baby gets out, please?"

His eyes took on a determined look. "Okay."

That was what she needed. It was what she had to demand from him even though she knew he was likely to make sure it happened without a prompt from her.

She plopped into a chair then. They were hiding out in an abandoned brick house that sat on the corner of one of the least busy streets they could find. However, they were still in New York City and it was one of the hardest hit areas of the infected epidemic. Their prime real estate property provided them with a way to see any incoming attack.

"I also need you to kill me if Fusco chickens out. I don't want Taylor seeing me like that."

It was John's turn to shake his head. "I don't know that I can do that."

"What?" She looked at him in confusion.

"I may have more attachment than Lionel." He sat in the chair across from her and leaned on the broken, rotting table between them.

"I don't understand."

He looked away then. "Look, Joss, I probably shouldn't tell you this." He let out a sarcastic huff and looked back at her. "Actually, I probably should have told you this a long time ago. Remember when you asked me if I was ready to move on awhile back?"

She nodded to encourage him to continue.

"I was ready then."

"Why are you telling me this, John?"

"Because I was ready to move on with you, but I was too much of a coward to tell you and then Beecher came along." He scratched the scruff that lined his chin.

Her mouth froze open in silence.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He started to stand.

Her body sprang forward, caught him in mid-stand and grasped his head in a firm grip. Her warm lips zeroed in on his. Not breaking their contact, he pulled her into his body and deepened the kiss. She felt him responding to their passion and her hand tugged harder on his hair as they shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.

When they drifted apart she panted from the intensity. She looked up at him and felt regret for the first time since that walker had chomped down on her leg.

Her hands found his chest and fisted the front of his shirt. Desire and pain warred for her emotions. Maybe this was actually just the beginning of the hallucinations? But no, those didn't usually start until two days in.

She looked back at his clear eyes and felt her own losing the battle against the tears that formed at his confession.

"I'm glad you told me."

* * *

I know where this fic is going. I would put the end in about three chapters. Hang in there with me. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Spring 2012

"This is a bad idea!"

Daniel looked up from the sink as the wooden door shut hard enough to vibrate. He raised a brow at Entin. On edge was a kind way to put how the doctor had been acting lately.

"What brings you to the executive bathroom, Ralphie boy?" Daniel sneered.

If the doctor heard the sarcasm in Daniel's voice, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Children, Daniel!"

Daniel grabbed one of the warm towels sitting between two sinks and dried his hands, cutting off the running water with the damp cloth before depositing it in a laundry chute. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

"It's a great idea, Ralph. Our market shares will go through the roof once the vaccine is administered through the schools."

"It's killing people, Daniel." Ralph swallowed. "And they aren't staying dead," he whispered.

Widened eyes looked at Ralph. "Not staying dead?"

"Hershel, Orlando, Jennifer, Lori. Those are few of the names of people who've come back from this. Catarina is still alive, but I don't know for how long."

"Come back from this? What the hell, Ralph? If they've come back then where are they now?"

"Dead. They're all dead. I couldn't fix them so I had to kill them again."

Daniel guffawed. "You are really off your rocker, aren't you? I don't know why dad made me employ you. He, of all people, should know that hiring relatives is often a recipe for disaster."

Ralph growled and slammed his fist on the counter beside Daniel. "This isn't some family reunion gone bad, Daniel. People are dying and they're coming back. So far this lab has been able to contain it because the test subjects have mostly been wealthy donors and top-level corporations. You start giving this shot to children and we're going to have a massacre on our hands."

Daniel eyed him again and shifted his weight. The back of his body reflected off the mirror, showing a lean man with thinning brown hair and a wrinkled shirt that indicated a sitting job.

"I want you out of here. I want your stuff out of this building by tomorrow."

A gasp left Ralph's mouth. "You don't mean that."

"I do. I'm tired of this, of you." He waved a hand toward Entin.

"What will you tell Uncle Russ?"

Daniel leaned forward, causing Ralph to back into the wall. "That I'm doing what is best for our bottom line. If anything can appeal to my father, it's money. Get out, and, Ralph, if you breathe anything about us 'killing' people, Alton will have you owing us more than this company is worth."

Ralph summoned his courage and the memory of all the nights he'd spent trying to fix his misdeeds. He stood up straight. "You're going to regret this, Daniel."

Daniel rocked backwards. "Not as much as you are." He put one hand on the swinging restroom door. "Out by noon tomorrow."

* * *

2013

Joss groaned and gouged her fingers into John's shoulders as he thrust deeper inside of her. Their coupling was purposely rough. There would be no lovemaking. They were already too attached as it was. Lovemaking would make it even harder for him to place that bullet in her skull when the time came.

Still, even as he pulled her harder toward him, he was careful to avoid her wound. Even as he clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth at the feel of her, he couldn't help but utter her name in a soft exhalation.

"Don't," she begged, but even she had to bite her top lip to keep from moaning his name.

The lone, worn mattress in the corner of the abandoned room was barely containing them as they searched for release.

She felt his breath on her neck and couldn't help but shift her hands lower on his back. It felt so good. So very good. He reached between their bodies and swiped a finger over her clit. She shuddered against him. Two more firm touches and she felt the air leave her in a sudden gasp. He came shortly after. They both stared at each other.

It wasn't the right time or the right place or the right anything, and yet, it would have to do.

* * *

Fusco was no idiot. He may have been a little nerdy and constantly out of the loop, but he hadn't gotten where he was without being smart. He knew that if anyone was going to put down Joss when the time came it was going to have to be him.

John may have been an ex-CIA, vigilante, badass Superman type, but like all Supermen, John had his kryptonite and his kryptonite was one NYPD Detective named Joss Carter. Only, for as smart as Joss was herself, she was oblivious to it.

He peeked into the room as he tiptoed by the group's makeshift kitchen. Or at least she had been. He shook his head.

Romantic attachments when you weren't in the zombie apocalypse were bad enough, but add in some undead waiting to munch on your brains, and getting romantically involved was outright stupid. Still, he couldn't deny John and Joss their moment. It was the only one they would have together.

He yanked the lid off a cooler and popped open a Coke. It was still refreshingly cool.

The handheld he carried with him crackled.

"Mr. Fusco?"

"Lionel, kid. Call me Lionel."

Formalities were also stupid. There were so many things that were stupid that society put so much emphasis on. They didn't do much for anybody when it was important. They'd certainly not kept anyone alive during the outbreak of whatever the hell this walking around dead thing was.

"Lionel, how is my mom?"

"She's alright for now. It's safe for you to see her when you guys get here."

"Okay."

The sadness in Taylor Carter's voice ripped into Lionel's soul. Fusco squeezed his eyes closed and memories overwhelmed him. It reminded him of the moment he pulled that trigger and…he leveled a gun straight behind him.

"Relax, Lionel." John held his hands up in a placating pose. He was dressed in his jeans and T-shirt like Fusco hadn't just seen the shadow of his naked body beside Joss. John reached into the cooler, shook ice from the top grooves of the can and pulled the tab on his own Coke.

"You want to get Carter up before Taylor gets here with Finch and wonders why his mother is naked in your 'room'?"

John took a gulp of soda. "She's already up."

Fusco stared at John. "You know that was a mistake, don'tcha?"

John sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "My whole life has been a mistake."

"No, no, that's not what I mean, and don't go getting all emo on me right now. I mean, you know it's going to be difficult to off her now that you've…" His voice trailed off. He didn't exactly want the visuals burning themselves into his head.

"It was always going to be impossible for me to pull the trigger on Joss, but you already knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, I knew."

"I would pull it before Taylor, but it needs to be you."

Fusco grimaced as he watched John reach down for a soda for Joss and exit the room.

"Why do I always get the dirty work?" Lionel grumbled.

* * *

AN: Thanks to all the people reading this story. :) Sometimes I'm late replying to your reviews, but I do appreciate when you drop a note.


End file.
